Two of many. This fragmented story is based on a night-time dream. I wrote it down in my journal when I awoke. One day I hope to revise its contents and make it part of a short-story collection. If you have any comments or suggestions to improve, please let me know.
Memories of Mommy Dee
Elaine drove down a residential road lined with aspen trees, their leaves had turned into the orange and yellow of autumn. As a child she didn’t know the road’s name, but now she knew it to be called Bryce Street. Memories flooded into the front of her consciousness. The events of these memories shaped her personality and every moment going forward. Many other things seemed so insignificant upon reflection, but Elaine couldn’t forget how she came to live at Burdock Institute. For years she had avoided returning in an effort to escape her past, but this year she relented.
Read more →
Téa Obreht’s personal journey really impressed me on a U-Tube video during the Library of Congress 2020 National Book Festival. The connection I felt brought tears to my eyes. She’s a novelist who was born in the former Yugoslavia and had to move to Syria with her family. She learned how to speak English by watching Disney films and by writing English in a British school. Her first novel in 2010, The Tiger’s Wife, combines mystical Yugoslavian story-telling techniques with reality. This grabbed my heart since my novel-in-progress is attempting to do this as well in a different way. Her recently released novel, Inland (May 2020) sounds marvelous. The story is about unusual aspects of history in the American Wild West during the 1800s (camels came into the U-Tube conversation). While broadcasting from Wyoming, she read a passage from her recent book that played out in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Coincidentally, I am living in Wyoming after retiring from the Washington, D.C. area. My first novel is based on a true story with fictionalized twists; the story revolves around my 1960s adoption in Germany by Americans—so, my story is different from hers, but we both had to leave our birthplace due to unusual circumstances. I purchased her novels and looked at a few excerpts; they sound fascinating. I look forward to reading all the pages in the future.
A very difficult subject to tackle; abortion from the point of view of many characters. I created a chart to keep track of everyone. The author did a great job with the individual stories and their reasoning for having or not having an abortion. I hadn’t selected this book on my own, it was part of my book club. I went straight into the book without reading the synopsis, so I wasn’t quite sure where I was at first. The story begins by talking about The Center, then a gun-man (George) who gets into the building, and the hostage situation begins. Once George was inside, the story went backward. The end surprised me! There is a lot to think about in this novel.
One of many. This fragmented story is based on a night-time dream. I wrote it down in my journal when I awoke. One day I hope to revise its contents and make it part of a short-story collection.
Maggie, hunted for the ringing phone, it was under a Smithsonian magazine. A moment passed. She grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID, it was her son. The reception wasn’t ideal and his voice sounded like he was talking into a tin can. To keep her other hand busy, she took a sponge off a plate and wiped down the kitchen counters.
“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” Joey said.
“Yes, I’d love to,” Maggie replied.
“We need to meet at 8 A.M. by the bus stop, my class schedule is packed.”
Maggie couldn’t figure out why he sounded so insistent. It wasn’t like him, and it was too damn early, but curiosity won. At the appointed time, they rendezvoused at the bus stop on Connecticut Avenue by the National Zoo. He didn’t say much, other than greeting her with a smile, until they reached the university campus. She thought about when he had first chosen her Alma Mater and the pride welled up again. At the corner of H and 21st Street, the bus pulled up in front of an empty lot where a building had been during her years at GW, but a sign listing future plans stood in its place. On the other side of the road, the Lisner Auditorium still shined with a newer open courtyard flanked with pathways leading up to an obelisk in the center.
Read more →
Once there was a tailor, named Bartholomew Dobbins, who lived in a small shop on the edge of town. All day he sewed for the town’s people. He hemmed pants and dresses, replaced buttons, and fixed jackets to fit like they were custom made. He made dresses and hats and all manner of clothing. He even made the bridesmaid dresses when the Mayor’s daughter got married. It was a fine and fancy wedding and Bartholomew Dobbins was proud to have helped.
But one year, in the spring, there was trouble. That winter, a wicked virus came to the town and was spreading among the town’s people. Many folks were sick. Some had died. No one knew how to make it go away or how to protect themselves. The Mayor was very worried and upset. His job was to take care of the town and the people in it. So, the Mayor made a proclamation that all people, young and old, should wear masks to cover their noses and mouths when they went out of their homes. This way, they could slow down the spread of the virus and maybe stop people from getting sick.
Read more →
Kat stepped off the platform into the first train she found, leading to her destination. It was all she could do to keep focused. She’d traveled over three thousand miles in the last four days. The trip began with a black roller bag that she’d had to replace with an obnoxious pink one soon after the initial phase of the journey. The first one lost its wheels. It was too heavy to carry with her bad shoulder, and the only available replacement made her feel uncomfortable. It was too bright. All she wanted to do was sit down in the train, but she didn’t want to sit next to the first person off the aisle. The last time she’d done that the businessman turned out to be an evangelist, who wanted to heal her by putting his hand on her injured limb. The religious conversation up to that moment was quite interesting.
Read more →